


The Omega Queen

by vasamalulu



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Casual Exhibitionism, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Multi, Ritual Public Sex, Stereotypes, Twincest, Very. Slow. Burn, made-up mythology, magical mumbo-jumbo, pseudo-politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 18:38:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 18,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15149381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vasamalulu/pseuds/vasamalulu
Summary: Sometimes, fate is just a meticulously planned series of circumstances.





	1. Chapter 1

Twenty-one years ago, the Empress blessed her Sovereign and the Land with twins, a girl and a boy, in that order. Soon after the Empress passed away, her already weakened body unable to recover. Heartsick, the Emperor threw all of his attention to raising the two children, his Beloved's last and most precious gifts. 

The little prince and princess grew quickly in the Inner Court, beloved by all. The prince showed a talent in poetry, with words he could paint whole worlds, move even the hardest hearts to joy or sorrow or despair. The princess too quickly gained a reputation for her life-like embroidery. It was easy to imagine kingfishers flying off her silks, or powerful horses leaping off and galloping away to a distant war.

And yet, their notoriety came from their singular talent in warfare and weaponry. It perhaps didn't come as a surprise, since both children grew up in their Royal Father's study, fighting to be the one sitting on his lap during audiences with Ministers and Generals alike. They loved being underfoot at a training ground, so much so that the Armor Master soon gave them weapons to train with and stop being a nuisance.

As they grew older, their talents soon became apparent. The prince and his quick wit soon impressed even the primary military strategist with his insights. The princess was calmer, a good judge of character since a young age, she had developed such a sharp instinct that some people wondered if she wasn't a mindreader. 

Life in the Inner Court was challenging but peaceful. Outside the war raged on. Although it was prosperous, the Empire was still stretched thin fighting protracted wars against two aggressors—the Mountain Tribes from the West and a neighboring kingdom that came with great iron ships from the East. Every day, more young men and women were sent to the Frontlines to replace fallen countrymen. Parents sent their children to battle, hoping for their safe return. If not, they prayed they had a bone to bury. Women became widows, children became orphans. Much as he liked to shelter his children, the Emperor too had to send his children to the frontline once they reached sixteen, the age of conscription. 

He entrusted them to his most capable General who fought in the mountains and prayed every day at the Ancestor's Altar. 

 

~o~0~o~

Exactly two years ago, at the height of their mountainous battles, where raids and skirmishes happened day and night almost without end, a half-dead messenger arrived to ask for help. The coast was about to fall, and the Admiral was desperate for any help he could get. The princess left with a number of her most trusted generals to assist the desperate fight to take back control of their coast and stop the enemy from pushing deeper in land toward the capital. 

It was quite a learning curve for those who came from the mountains. They found most of their tactics unusable in the flat terrains along the sea, that skirmishes among the humid mangrove forests took a heavier toll upon their bodies, and the coastal climate was very bad for a lot of their weaponry. Sometimes they had to sail out to sea, too, to intercept enemy ships before they could drop anchor. Sea sickness was the least of their worries. 

~o~0~o~

Five years after the Royal Children left the Palace behind, the capital city was abuzz, stirred up into a passionate frenzy. It prepared itself for their return, like a courtesan adorning itself with the choicest jewels. 

The Twins would return from opposite ends of the Royal Road, one from the West and one from the East. Proud conquerors both. Against all expectations, they had both triumphed in battle after battle, turning the tide and brought news of victory after victory to their Royal Father's desk. 

The Emperor counted the days of their return with joy but also with trepidation. He was now old and his Ministers were already pushing him to name a successor. 

He had to choose between the two, both Jewels of his life. Both equally accomplished, both equally bright, both with equal claim to the throne. 

"Not equal, Your Majesty," one of the Ministers spoke up at a meeting. "While the Princess is your first born, she is Beta. The Prince is Alpha." 

Indeed the Old Midwife, before her passing, had confirmed what she had found. 

That was the least of the old Emperor's worry however. His concern was in the Ancient rule regarding twins. When one ascend the throne, the other must leave to establish their own dominion. It was effectively a glorified banishment, designed so that one sibling would not threaten the other's throne. 

It pained his heart to even imagine welcoming both his children, returned to him against all odds alive and hale, only to send one away so soon. Especially his Royal Daughter, she of sharp wit and wisdom that reminded him of his late Empress. He had imagined himself growing old surrounded by both his children, and their children and their children. After the Empress's passing he had vowed to himself, that he would do all within his power to keep his family close together. 

'There must be some way,' he thought, holding his secret wish close to his heart. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

It was the largest parade the capital had ever seen, a triumphant procession that stretched from one end of the Royal Road to the other. The Emperor had to restrain himself from running down the Palace steps to embrace his prodigal children. 

A grand banquet was thrown, no expenses spared, to honor the triumphant heroes. Everyone, from the lowliest foot soldiers upward, gorged themselves with the sweetest wine and the choicest cut of meat. 

After three days and three nights, every soldier left to go back their own towns and villages, each carrying gifts from their grateful Emperor. They also carried the remains of those who perished at the front. An empire-wide mourning period of three days was declared, and a stipend pledged for the surviving families of those soldiers. 

Once the last bones had been buried and tears had been wrung, festivities large and small began once more, up and down the Great Empire. The capital city hosted some of the grandest ones, lasting a fortnight with no sign of ebbing. All the grand mansions and the whorehouses were full of revelers, the city's disciplinary patrols had long given up trying to break up street brawls. 

~o~0~o~

You would think that sitting next to each other would allow you to talk to your own sibling. Well, you thought wrong. An endless stream of well-wishers and brown-nosers made it all but impossible. 

An opening presented itself one night, near the end of first month of their return. 

Extricating herself from a particularly enthusiastic suitor with bad wine breath, the Princess followed down the path she had seen her brother took earlier in the evening.

~o~0~o~

This part of the palace compound was new and mostly unfamiliar, having been built in the years of their absence. It housed a set of two pavilions, one for each twin, with a small fish pond in the middle, nestled under a large cherry blossom tree. It being in the middle of winter, the tree was pitifully bare and the fish in the pond had been relocated elsewhere, presumably an indoor catchment of some sort. She couldn't wait for spring to come. 

The courtyard was quiet, but she could see that the light was still on in her brother's pavilion. Perhaps he was catching up on his reading, she thought fondly of her bookworm brother. 

Securing her grip around the neck of the fine wine she managed to liberate from their Father's private cellar, she pushed the door open with one hand. "Samir, I brought... oh good heavens!" 

~o~0~o~

Her brother was, as expected, in the middle of reading. As he was seated directly facing the door, Dinara could clearly see the title of the book he was holding. It was one of those much-talked-about political treatise written by the rising star of the Senate. It was not all that she could clearly see. 

"Sister..." Samir looked up from his book and smiled warmly at his sister. He marked his page with a thin golden bookmark that his sister had given him all those years ago. It showed its age and wear. She used to tease him about it, even offering to purchase him a dozen new ones. But he loved this one above all. He put the book down on a small side table.  

Dinara chuckled and closed the door firmly behind her. "I forgot about this bad habit of yours," she remarked fondly. She couldn't believe how much she had forgotten about her brother in the two years they had been apart. "You and your over-fondness for cockwarmers." 

It was, according to Samir, one of the greatest pleasures in life: A good book and a warm mouth or slick cunny around his cock. A good wine would make it all perfect. "I brought wine," Dinara said unnecessarily, crossing the short distance between them. 

"Father's?" He eyed the unopened bottle of wine. He idly played with the loose strand of hair of the omega boy in front of him. He stroked a finger down the boy's fair temple, across his stuffed cheek, and the boy slowly pulled back, obeying his Prince's silent order. 

"Of course." Dinara sat on an empty chair next to her brother's and watched as the boy sat back on his haunches, tucking her brother's half-hard cock inside his breaches. "Really, you don't have to leave on my behalf." 

She received a pretty blush, but no answer, from the omega who kept his gaze firmly averted in deference. He rose to his feet gracefully, in a flurry of translucent robes. 

Samir stood up and led the boy to the door, kissing the boy thoroughly and promising to summon him back later that night. 

"Beautiful boy," Dinara remarked, uncorking the wine bottle while her brother rooted around for two goblets. "You didn't have to make him leave."

Truly, she appreciated visions of beautiful people, especially after living by the skin of one's teeth, from camp to camp, with so few whorehouses in between. Nothing against her faithful soldiers, brave and loyal as they were, they're not really all that great to look at. Not like the capital's many well-groomed eyecandies.

Samir ignored her gentle grumbling as he poured out two glasses of red wine—red as the boy's lips, he noted. Red as his sister's lips, he added to himself. "Cheers," he said, clinking their goblets lightly. "I want to talk to you about something."


	3. Chapter 3

The rule of succession regarding twins was perhaps as old as time, intrinsically connected to the very foundation of the Empire. Every man, woman, and child in the Empire knew the mythology of its founding.

It began with two brothers—strong, wise, and comely both. After a long and bitter battle, the elder emerged victorious and ascended the first throne. The Great Life Giver, Source of All Light, gave him twelve mates, with whom he sired the Twelve Founding Houses, the oldest and most exalted families in the empire.

The lesser brother however, was sent out from the land of his birth into the wilderness. His older brother was grief-stricken when he was told of the Live Giver's decree. No matter how much he pleaded, the Live Giver was not moved. So he gathered all the riches there was in the royal coffers and sent out retinues and supply caravans along with his brother. If he could not stop his brother from leaving, then he could at least try to ensure that his brother would not languish in hardship and poverty.

For twenty one years, the lesser brother and his followers roamed the far reaches of the land and sea. Most of the followers though soon settled down, establishing many villages and towns. Cursed to never settle in one place for long, the brother lived a nomadic life with a small band of followers. His travel companion soon dwindled from seven to three to one.

Though they were far apart, the brothers were never far in each other's mind and heart. They never stopped praying to the Deities for each other's safety, for a chance that one day they might be reunited.

The lesser brother's plight moved the heart of the Sun Goddess who, on her travel across the skies every day, was able to observe him. She petitioned the Life Giver on the pitiful man's behalf.

She pestered the Life Giver tirelessly, until one day, the Ruler of Heaven capitulated and sent a crow down to the lesser brother, with news. The First Emperor, it said, had successfully mated with all twelve houses. More importantly his heir had reached his majority and taken a mate of his own. No longer a threat to the Royal lineage, the younger brother's exile had finally ended.

The younger brother and his last remaining attendant were taken back to the Empire on the Sun Goddess's chariot. The elder brother awaited anxiously at the outermost gates. They embraced each other and cried happy tears. A great feast was laid out by the Brother Emperor. They sacrificed to the Life Giver and the Deities and spilled the blood of the largest ram on the altar of the Sun Goddess.

The Heavens decreed that the Empire would now include those villages and small frontier towns that the younger brother had helped establish during his long and lonely exile. And so the population and boundaries of the already great nation grew threefold overnight. The empire was able to grow larger this way, and over time twin births would be celebrated because of this. Only the knowledge of such deep sorrow that would accompany any long separation, however temporary, stopped Royal Families from actively seeking twin births. 

Meanwhile, the younger brother, now a Prince of the Realm, soon settled into a calmer life. Everyone in the Palace waited on him hand and foot. Even his royal brother, the Emperor, was sometimes seen serving him, working to ensure that the Prince would want for nothing. During the day, the Prince presented a happy facade—doting on his royal nephew and nieces, enjoying a comfortable life long denied to him. At night however, he lamented his loneliness. He never begrudged his brother's bountiful life, but he prayed fervently to have a family of his own.

This time, the Moon Goddess heard his lament, and so her heart was moved. From the brighest shaft of her Light she fashioned a mate for the younger brother. A wedding, small and solemn, was held. A child was soon born, then another, and another. The brother was now content.

And so the myth went, about the founding of the Great Empire. It was said that all the Alphas and Betas of the Empire were descended from the First Emperor and the twelve founding houses, while all the Omegas carried the legacies and blessings from the younger brother and the child of the moon.

~o~0~o~

Throughout the uncounted thousands of years that had passed since the Founding, very few royal twins were born.  In fact, Dinara and Samir were the first twins born into the royal family in two hundred years.

Like all the twins before them, they were expected to decide the succession in the Old Way. They would engage in a series of battles—of wit, of cunning, and of strength. The victor would be crowned the next Sovereign, while the lesser would be sent out to establish their own dominion, awaiting the time their territory would be annexed and they were invited to return in triumph. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Samir is a shameless boi.

"I'd rather not fight you for the throne," she told him, lying on her back on a thick rug in front of the brazier. The jacket of her dress uniform had gone the same way as her boots: to parts unknown. Though she didn't much care about them at the moment. She felt much less stiff lounging in just her shirt and breeches.

Her brother was next to her, on his side, head pillowed on folded hand. Samir was no longer wearing his sitting robe, too. The brazier fire was warm enough that he had even unlaced his tunic.

Around them lay empty dessert plates and several bottles of wine, all completely consumed. They had called for wine and sweets numerous times that night, even flirted shamelessly with the page boys and servant girls who came to deliver them. "I'd sooner leave than fight you," she swore vehemently.

Samir felt his chest constrict painfully at her words, "No, please. Don't say that." He ruthlessly pushed down the panic already blooming in his heart. Like all their countrymen, he had grown up on stories about the First Twins. His heart always hurt whenever he imagined having to be apart from his sister for twenty years. He barely survived the past two years.

She turned her head a little so she could look at him directly. Sugar fatigue had clouded his usually piercing dark eyes, while wine had warmed his cheeks.

"Let's not think about it today," she said, reaching out across the short distance between them to push his hair back from his forehead and smoothen out the crease that had formed between his eyebrows.

He smiled at her and took her hand in his, hugging it next to his rapidly pounding heart.

Fire danced to a crackling rhythm inside the brazier, enveloping them its warmth, slowly soothing their worries. Shadows danced around them languidly.

Many years of living on her nerves made her appreciate this quietude better. When they were younger, free from any mortal worry, this sort of silence only happened when they were worn out from the day's mischief, gorged full of rice cakes and mead they managed to liberate from the kitchens.

Her brother had a small lazy smile on his face; he was probably reminiscing the same thing as her.

Suddenly overcome, her breath hitched. Her brother instinctively closed the gap between them, slinging his arm around her shaking shoulders. Taking a deep breath, she sighed, lifted her arm and put it around him in a mirrored gesture. Curving their body inwards toward one another, tangling their limbs lightly, faces so close to each other their noses touched, they quickly settled into that familiar arrangement that never failed to soothe them since they were mere babes.

His "I miss you" came as warm puffs against her cheek, and he breathed in her plaintive "I miss you, too".

She moved to tuck his head under her chin as she had done so many times in the past, but soon laughed as the coarse hairs on his face scratched at the soft skin of her neck. Samir was usually clean-shaven by choice. Then, it became a necessary habit once they began living in camps. It wouldn't do to be infested with lice with the enemy breathing down one's neck.

However, in the short span since their return to the capital, the Prince had taken to growing a beard, which he kept blessedly tidy and trim. Dinara had not liked it at first. Her first thought was that it aged him. But in the intermittent weeks, he had quickly learned the fine art of grooming, or finally found someone competent to do it for him. Dinara had to admit that he now looked rather dashing with it. Although it was still very itchy.

Samir laughed and began to nuzzle at her throat, deliberately brushing her soft fragrant skin with his coarse cheek.

She lightly thumped his shoulders. "Stop it," she hissed in between giggles. "You're chafing me."

Samir merely grinned at her half-hearted protest, and fitted his stubbly chin on the dip between her collarbones. He pressed a chaste kiss on the side of her neck, let her strong steady pulse lull him. He had always found so much comfort in her unwavering presence.

Dinara returned his affection with a kiss on the crown of his head, blessing him fervently. She let her fingers trace the sturdy contours of his clothed back and play with the small dip at the base of his spine. Wine, sweets, and the hearth lulled them into a half-twilight of slumber. 

~o~0~o~

Dinara woke up to the sound to annoyingly chirpy birds. She grumbled and turned to lay on her other side. Someone had moved her to a soft bed and put a fluffy blanket on her overnight. Pressing her face into a fragrant pillow, she hummed happily.

"Good morning!" Samir was equally annoyingly chirpy in the morning. Dinara snuggled deeper into the blanket, mumbling a 'go away'.

"Father wants to see us this morning."

Dinara swore (politely; he was still her Sovereign). Apparently all the men in her family were annoying in the morning.

Keeping her eyes closed in an effort to make her comfortable slumber last, she rearranged the pillows and bedding. Her brother chuckled at her antics, but was rather impressed at the little nest/throne/fort she managed to build at the head of the bed, practically without sight.

But the small effort only managed to make the Princess sleepy again, and she half slumped against the headboard hugging a pillow that smelled a little bit like Samir. Soft hands—too soft to be Samir's (and too many, she thought with a frown)—helped to prop her up. A breakfast tray was placed on her lap. The sweet scent of citrus-viburnum jam over steaming porridge slowly coaxed her into wakefulness.

She cracked an eye open and saw her brother looking at her fondly. He was across the room, at a small portable table. She could never understand how one could eat such heavy breakfast of meats and lentils. She preferred her light aromatic breakfast any day of the week.

"Eat quickly," her brother reminded her. "We need to be ready in less than an hour."

"Well, that's not very much time, is it?" she observed idly as she bit into a triangular cut of preserved beetroot. That also explained why her brother was surrounded by so many people so early in the morning.

Apart from the Prince's long-suffering valet who was trying to straighten the collar of his day uniform in vain, there was the server who poured gravy on his meat every so often and someone who bustled in and out with sweet black tea.

Then, there's that omega boy from last night taking care of her brother's impressive morning wood. The boy looked so painfully beautiful, with his hollowed cheeks and his full lips. She wondered, perhaps not for the first time, whether her brother had ever knotted the boy's mouth. Knowing her brother, probably more than a few times. 

She watched the palace groomer and his straight razor and teeny-tiny silver scissors, calmly tidying up Samir's scraggly beard. She envied his patience. She would've shaved everything off in one go.

Oh, let's not forget that sweet-faced girl brushing his mop of a hair into a neat knot on the crown of his head.

Her brother looked every inch a louche. Capital-life suited him, she supposed. He looked straight at her, daring her to comment.

"Someone needs to fetch my clothes and do my hair, too," she scolded instead, because she could. 


	5. Chapter 5

Soon enough, the kitchen servants came to clear out the Twins' morning meal, while some others slowly and discreetly began putting the room to rights. Except the boy on his lap, his body servants had long completed their duty with him, turning their attention to his Royal Sister.

Samir repositioned the omega on his lap so the bird-thin boy could sit more comfortably while they both waited for his knot to subside. He idly flicked at the boy's nipple with one hand, and fondled the boy's perpetually half-hard cock through its cage. He had commissioned the jewelry himself, from one of the best smiths in the empire. Made from the strongest metals, it was deceptively delicate with its fine filigree work and tastefully placed gemstones. It was made to be a snug fit, framing the boy's very adorable cock and balls perfectly.

They sat facing a plain rice-paper screen that frankly hid nothing of his sister's sinewy body. Morning light streamed in from the large circle window behind her, making tantalizing shadows dance on the paper screen. They had set up a portable vanity for her, and she sat there quietly as skillful servants worked on her. They wiped her body with soft fragrant cloths, rubbed oils on her skin to keep it soft and dewy. One maid brushed her hair and coiled it artfully on the top of her hair in a manner befitting of a woman general.

It was like watching a shadow play of his beloved sister completing her morning toilette.

She chose that time to stand up so they could dress her.

The paper screen was not a tall one. It completely obscured her when she was seated, but once standing, she presented a stunning picture—from the top of her head, her straightbacked posture, down to the gentle swell of her breasts.

A small whimper from the boy on his lap brought the prince back to his senses. Apparently his once subsiding cock was swelling again in the omega's warm slick cunny. "Forgive me," Samir said, but only as a matter of superficial courtesy. "But isn't she beautiful?" he whispered proudly to the boy, his lips brushing against the cool metal of a golden ear cuff. How could one not be moved by such a perfect vision?

A different attendant came with a spool of pure white cotton fabric that looked soft even from this relative distance, and began to bind Dinara's breasts so they were flat against her chest.

Samir wished such cruel binders were not needed. Indeed, his sister tried not to wear it all the time, except when the occasion necessitated it. Like battles—which happened all too often in their past. And field drills—like the one she had arranged for today. He shook his head fondly. Unlike him, his sister was a hard taskmaster. She had no qualms, for instance, about running drills in the middle of winter. Furthermore, she took it upon herself to keep her people on their toes. But that was probably why her soldiers were the best.

Her white dress shirt came next, denying him the view of her rounded shoulders and tantalizing clavicle. Lastly, she shrugged on the jacket of her duty uniform, royal blue to match his, but with more embellishment showing her as Firstborn.

She thanked her attendants in a low voice, gave them all little kisses that made them blush and giggle all the way to the servant's wing.

She rounded the screen and stood in front of him, one elegant eyebrow raised affectionately. "How is it that you're not done yet?"

Truly she could not understand the her brother, nor Alphas in general. She often wondered whether it was only due to her folly as Beta. Although she enjoyed partaking in the very pleasing act of flirtation every now and then (who could, after all turn down a handsome stud or a beautiful courtesan?), she never really understood the level of amorousness most people seemed to enjoy.

She knew that fellow friends had teased her more than once about her unusually low libido, even for a Beta. Some of them even went as far as saying that she was broken somehow. She never really believed them. It was, perhaps, just the way she was.

Shaking her head to rid herself of this useless thought, she decided to study the omega boy more closely. Last night, he had fled so quickly she couldn't get a good look at him. This morning, she had been too sleepy to care.

"So pretty," she commented, brushing back a lock of hair that had fallen across one eye. His face was sweet, shaped like a heart, with red freckled cheeks and big green eyes. His bow-shaped lips were so inviting, she couldn't help but steal a kiss. "What are you called?" she asked, but the boy didn't answer. She frowned.

"He was born mute," her brother informed her quickly. "But, anyway, his name is Alain."

"Oh," she cooed at him sadly, stroking his head. Though the boy was mute, his purrs sounded heavenly. She leaned down to kiss him once more.

"I'm sure my brother would love to play with you some more," she said, misunderstanding the reason for her brother's second round of knotting. Samir didn't correct her. "But, as he has told me many times this past hour, we are already late for an audience with dear Father."

It earned her an apologetic grin from her brother.

"I'm done anyway," Samir said haughtily. He put his hand lightly on the nape of the boy's neck, tilting his whole body forward. Then he ran a soothing hand down the boy's back, one long stroke along the spine from neck to arse.

He braced his hands on both sides of the boy's flank and quietly instructed him to take his sister's profferred hand so he could stand up.

The well-trained omega stood gracefully despite his slightly trembling limbs, and quickly clenched his muscles to keep his Prince's cum and his slick from leaking out of him. He stumbled slightly into the princess's arms when Samir gave him a little push forward to dislodge the boy completely.

"Here, lean on my shoulder." The princess tucked his head against the juncture of her neck, smiling slightly as his soft hair tickled the underside of her chin.

A hesitant servant approached them with the omega's prepared plug, which was made from the same metal and jewels as the boy's cock cage. She shifted her gaze back and forth between the two royal siblings, wondering whom to give it to.

The prince jerked his head slightly, indicating that the princess should do the honors. He leaned back in his seat while another servant cleaned his now limp cock and tucked him neatly into his breeches.

He enjoyed the contrast of her winter-tanned skin against the boy's snowlike pale coloring. He listened to her voice, low in a soothing rumble, as she coaxed the boy to simultaneously open up and keep everything in. Despite her very limited experience when it came to Omega-care (especially compared to her brother's expansive knowledge), she still managed to ease the plug, which was of considerable size and had practically no give, past the boy's tightly clenched sphincter without causing him additional discomfort or spilling a drop.

"Good boy," she praised the wonderful omega, handing him to the waiting care of an attendant. 

Turning around toward her brother, she couldn't help but laugh when she saw the tell-tale bulge on the front of his breeches. "You are insatiable."

Samir, never a shy one, merely winked as he stood up and adjusted himself with exaggerated movements. "Only for you, Sister."

He stole a kiss from her, and exploited her surprised gasp to slip his tongue into her warm mouth. Underneath the lingering sweetness of her jam porridge, was the subtle scent that was uniquely hers. He decided it was his most favorite scent ever. 


	6. Chapter 6

The door to Samir's room burst open and the two siblings jumped apart as if they had been burnt.

An amused chuckle came from the doorway, and they remembered to bow as their Royal Father approached them. Once they completed their show of respect as the Emperor's loyal subjects, they quickly kissed him on his cheek. "Good morning, Papa!" The princess greeted.

"I was wondering why both of you were late," their father chided them gently. His children had the decency to look contrite. "I got bored of waiting."

"Come to the study, Papa," Samir invited his father and liege. The servants would've cleaned and aired the room out by now.

~o~0~o~ 

"I am glad to see that you siblings are still as close as ever," he praised them as they sat and drank tea.

Their bond had always been very strong, so much so that they functioned like one entity in two separate bodies. In conversations, they would finish each other's sentences. In battle, they moved with astonishing harmony, perfectly attuned to the smallest of cues. "I'm glad, because it will, hopefully, make my task easier."

"This is about the succession, then." The statement hung between them like an ugly carcass.

"You're not the only one to loathe being apart," the father soothed his two agitated children. "I have thought about it for a long time."

"Is there really a way to wiggle out of it?"

"Nothing is impossible," the emperor said, with all the conviction and arrogance befitting a sovereign. "We  _are_ royals, after all."

"I suppose I can marry out," the princess said after a while. Her brother gasped sharply and she turned to look at him. "What? It's only natural, since have no desire to fight you." They were mostly evenly matched—she was slightly better on the battlefield, he was slightly better in court politics—and both of them had no qualms about throwing a match to benefit the other.

"It makes the best sense. You're the Alpha between us." She looked to her father for affirmation. "And it's always better to have an Alpha on the throne, am I right, Papa?" 

In fact, she had always expected to be married out. It was a choice available for female members of the royal family, no matter what their secondary genders were. It would be a loveless political alliance, but in her eyes, it was the lesser of two evils. Rather than going into decades-long exile, she'd sooner marry someone else. "Think about it, Brother dear. I can always use diplomatic visits as an excuse, stay here for months at a time."

Somehow, the thought of his sister marrying some other man made his skin crawl. A ugly bubble of possessiveness overtook his heart and his face grew dark.

"It won't be so bad," she continued on, oblivious to his resentment. "I hear the Henddlu prince is looking for a mate."

"It's too cold. You won't like it there," Samir said. "What's more, I hear the prince is a foppish good-for-nothing. You'll be miserable."

It went on like this for a good half hour: Dinara throwing out names of eligible princes and Samir shooting them down mercilessly. The Emperor merely watched his children bicker. It warmed his heart. They were the only ones of any value he had left. His little jewels. He would do anything to keep them close. If only his wife were there next to him. He missed her warm hand in his, her warm smile directed at him, her kisses, her.... 

He cleared his throat loudly to stop his train of thought from going south.

~o~0~o~ 

"It sounds like you don't want me to marry at all!" the princess huffed once she could no longer think of a name. At this rate, she's going to die an old spinster. Annoyed, she downed a cupful of scalding tea in one rude movement. It burned down her throat but she merely poured herself another cup.

"That's not true, at all," the prince defended. "They're just crap picks." In his not so humble opinion, no one under the sun was good enough for her.

She was about to reply back in kind when the outer door of the prince's pavilion burst open with a bang. A soldier skidded into sight, crying out, "Your Highness! Your Highness!"

"What is it?"

The soldier realized that the Emperor was sitting there as well, looking rather amused. He quickly prostrated himself on the floor and performed the correct gestures of obeisance.

"Th... there's a big fight on the training ground!"

The princess was already on her feet and out of the door before the soldier finished his speech. 

"Come find me when you're done!" The Emperor called after her, even waving at her jovially, grinning at the picture painted by her measured haste and her soldier's scurrying one.

Once she disappeared out of sight, the Emperor's demeanor became serious. He turned to his son and studied his anxious face. "Don't worry so much," he soothed. "We still have time to decide what to do before the new year's." Which would be in a fortnight, which was not a lot of time at all.

As tradition dictated, an announcement regarding to succession must be made on the first day of the new year. For a single heir, it would merely be an announcement of the date of ascension. For twin heirs, it would mark the beginning of their year-long trial.

"But Papa..." The prince was a general of his own vast army, victor of many battles, and yet here he was, whining like a toddler.

"Everything will be all right, you'll see," he took a sip from his cooling tea. Any other time, he would have called a servant to replace it with a hot one, but he was not staying for long anyway. "You're not the only one who wants her to stay." Here. Where she belonged. 

Samir looked at his father curiously. "You have something up your sleeve." His father didn't even move a muscle, merely smiling like a sphinx. "You're not going to tell me?"

"I will. In time," the old Emperor said, rising to his feet, brushing imaginary wrinkles out of his robes.

They walked companiably all the way up to the entrance of the Emperor's study. "Don't worry," the father reassured his son once again. "It will be fine once I talk to her."

Samir nodded. He trusted his father, who had never done him wrong, who always kept his promise. 


	7. Chapter 7

He went to the training grounds and saw an audience had formed around its perimeter. Spectators were always very territorial, no matter the spectacle. The prince had a hard time discreetly elbowing people out of his way. Fed up with oblivious spectators telling him to shove off, Samir finally decided to wave his privilege about. The sea of people quickly parted, tripping over themselves to let the prince pass.

From his prime spot under the shade, he could see that the brawlers had been subdued, gathered, and plopped like landed fish in front of his sister. She was straightbacked and taut, anger radiated out of her as she listened to a captain listed all the names of the culprits.

Some of the guilty soldiers tried to offer up excuses, but his sister was having none of it. They had after all, with their own stupid antics, drew her away from a precious family time.

The normal punishment for brawls among the troops was lashing, but she added some hard labor to it as well. She feared that they had become lax and undisciplined, now that they were no longer actively fighting against enemies out to kill them.

These days, their only enemies were boredom and vice. Some of her trusted commanders had even started sporting beer-guts!

Samir hung around for a good portion of an hour, watching the princess administer the lashes herself, and then ordering a mock battle for the rest of the men. He could've stayed and watched the whole afternoon, but his page soon materialized next to him, reminding him that the prince also had soldiers to take care of.

~o~0~o~

Thankfully, there were no serious problems down in his part of the barracks. If only because more than two-thirds of his soldiers had not returned from their deserved leave of absence.

He quickly made his rounds, fully intending to make it back to the training grounds in good time. The mere thought of seeing his sister whipping soldiers into shape, her long legs straddling her mighty thoroughbred...

He adjusted himself through his breeches as he walked out. His page politely averted his eyes. They were not yet out of the door when a minor disaster struck.

Huffing in annoyance, the prince strode back to his private office yelling at his commanders. His page trailed behind him with a mountain of paperwork that had materialized almost out of thin air. Unbelievable! Here were his commanders, with their brave spirit and stellar battle records, defeated so soundly by paperwork.

Although he often played up his faineance, Samir was actually a hard-working individual and bloody brilliant at accounting and book-keeping. He spent the next several days sorting out affairs on his side of the barracks, undoing a tangle of red tape, barely stopping to eat or sleep. By the end of it, he was bone tired and some of his commanders were seriously considering crossing over to the princess's unit or flat out resigning. Dieing from overwork was rather undignified.

~o~0~o~

At the other end of the palace compound, the prince's residential staff were bored. With their master away at the barracks, they quickly ran out of things to do. They had cleaned up every corner of the pavilion until not even the littlest dust bunny remained. They had scrubbed and polished every surface (yes even the roof), and even started an herb garden behind the pavilion.

One of the prince's servants, who was making a tiny snow-family on the steps of the pavilion, saw her master's rapid approach and quickly alerted her friends.

Servants and attendants sprung up to their feet eager for work.

The prince called first for a bath to be drawn, and it was perfectly warm and fragrant. The prince then called for finger foods and tea, and they were the most delicious he had ever tasted. He spied his overgrown beard in the mirror, and his groomer appeared next to him like magic.

He emerged from his leisurely bath, freshly shaved and smelling the cleanest he had ever been this past week. Warm and sleepy, he decided to reward himself with a good book and a glass of sweet wine. He called for his omega, but was amused to learn that his sister had 'stolen' the boy in his absence.

Would the prince like the servants to fetch the omega?

No, he decided. He would go to his sister himself. After all, it had been a while since he saw her and he realized that he missed her terribly.

~o~0~o~

He didn't know why he was a bit disappointed to see both his sister and the omega were somewhat fully clothed, seated in front of an embroidery stand doing... such mundane things. A bronze brazier was placed quite close to them, emitting fragrant warmth. Perhaps it explained why they were not as vigorously dressed.

Alain was in a silk robe Samir had never seen before. His sister must've gotten it for the boy, and it suited the boy very much. His sister wore a plain cotton tunic unlaced from collarbone to sternum, revealing a titillating hint of breast. The criss-cross imprint of her chest binder was very faint, so she must've freed herself from it quite a while ago. The tunic's hem should just about reached her knee, but it had ridden up to let him take a peek at the apex of her thigh.

Sensing another's presence in the room, the princess looked up, and immediately loosened when she saw him standing at the threshold of her workroom.

"Brother," she greeted, while placing a hand on Alain's thigh to stop the omega from sliding to the floor in greeting of his prince. "Stay here," she told the blushing boy. "Why don't you continue with this part," she pointed to a spot on the stretched fabric. The boy nodded enthusiastically, hair flopping all over the place.

"Good boy," she praised, dropping a kiss on the boy's lips.

~o~0~o~

"Oh don't pout so much," she chided, as they moved to the drawing room. It was a bit chilly there, as the hearth was newly lit. Samir did the honorable thing and draped his own woolen robe over her shoulders, then laced her tunic up for her. And if his fingers lingered longer than necessary on her clavicle as he pretended to struggle with a knot, she didn't comment on it.

"I promise to return him unharmed. He's surprisingly good at embroidery," she remarked conversationally.

They had called for some sweets and jug of mulled wine, and she had her servants put an extra pinch of star anise in hers.

"You were gone for an awfully long time," she remarked, then teased him about his one-track mind when it came to work.

"It was only a few days," he said.

"One week," she told him. He was genuinely surprised. No wonder his subordinates very nearly threw themselves out the window.

"Father was getting restless," she added. "He thought you had gone into hiding."

New Year was in less than a week. Four full days and a handful of hours, to be exact. "Oh, the succession."

"We discussed a lot of things while you were gone," she told him as she divided a stiff brandy pudding into equal portions in two small bowls.

"There's a way out?" He accepted one bowl with a slight nod.

"Of sorts."

Samir scowled at her cryptic hints and secretive smile. Apparently she had picked up some bad habits from their father. He studied her face as though he would find some answers there.

A thought crossed his mind. He quickly turned around in his seat and looked to where Alain was toiling away with thread and needle.

There's only one reason why one would embroider a brilliant red cloth with curling myrtles in blue thread, and small silver-threaded bees.

"He's going to marry you off," Samir gasped in dawning realization, he felt as though an iron band had constricted around his heart.

"Yes."

"To whom?" Samir asked, pushing each word out slowly even as his mind was racing. Was it the Henddlu prince? Their kingdom was small but obscenely rich and powerful. They would make a good ally. Or the sprawling nation of Thrame? The Crown Prince was still unmarried, even though he was old as their father. He always made passes at his sister whenever he visited.

His heart seemed to have lodged itself in his throat, constricting  him with its too loud thumping, making it difficult for him to breathe.

He surged up from his seat, propelled by something to akin a black rage, almost tackling her to the ground.

She didn't fall, and it wasn't only because of her strength. For even in his anger the prince still remembered to hold back. She reached out to touch his cheek lightly, pushed his wild hair out of his dark eyes. From a young age, even before he could name it, he knew this gesture meant that he was safe.

"To whom?" He breathed in and held it anxiously.

"To you."

His shock lasted a good while, and at the end of it he didn't even know what sort of emotion he should show to his sister.

He settled with a question, "But how?"


	8. Chapter 8

"But how?" her brother asked. 

 

 

That was her question too, when her father explained it to her a week previous. 

~o~0~o~

She had gone straight to her father's study from the training field. Frost was starting to form on the ground and the sky was steel grey. The wind picked up. Soon, it would grow into a blizzard.

"How were the brawlers?" The Emperor asked as he ushered her into his study.

"You know anyway," she grumbled. Nothing happened in the Empire that he didn't know.

"Humor an old man. How many lashes?"

"Too few," she grumbled as she accepted tea from a servant with a small nod.

"Good, that means you're learning about leniency," he praised. His daughter was always so strict, with everything and everyone, even herself. 'No,' he corrected himself, ' _Especially_  herself.'

"No doubt you would scold me about hard labor?"

"No, that was fair enough," he said truthfully. The farmers were shorthanded because of the long wars, and this year's winter was especially harsh.  "Now, for the other business."

Without missing a beat, he gestured for one of his ever-present servants to fetch a large-ish box from his desk.

She pushed her tea away, her mouth suddenly bitter. "The succession," she said. "I'm serious, Papa."

She had made up her mind. "I'll throw as many matches as I have to and make sure Sami ascends the throne."

"I know," he soothed, as the servant returned with the box. Then, he dismissed everyone in the room, and waited until he was sure no one was eavesdropping. "My proposition is a bit more complicated, and it _will_ be hard for you," he began, smoothing his hand over the lid of the box. "But if both of you prevail, then no one needs to ever leave and everybody will be happy."

Never one to turn down a good challenge, she leaned forward with interest. "What is it, Papa? You know I'm always up for a good fight."

And perhaps that was what her father was banking on.

Taking a deep breath, he stood up and laid the box gently on her lap. "Your mother was supposed to give this to you," he said sadly. "Along with the blessings only a mother can give to a daughter."

The lid yielded easily. Inside was a length of the softest silk dyed the richest vermilion, large spools of blue, silver, and oxblood threads, and gleaming embroidery needles.

"You wish for me to marry. Who?"

~o~0~o~

The box toppled onto the floor, spilling its contents. Red silk unfurled and pooled like blood at her feet.

She was stunned to silence. She was supposed to say something, but her mind was drawing a blank.

She had never imagined of marrying her brother. It just never crossed her mind and not because she didn't love Samir. Apart from her father, Samir was the only one she could genuinely say she loved.

But she didn't think that what she felt for her brother was a romantic one. Sure, it went deeper than merely sibling love, but wasn't a bond between twins always so visceral?

If she really had to marry Samir... it wasn't really a hardship, was it? She believed Samir was fond of her too. Based on this alone, it was already miles better than being trapped in a loveless marriage.

She leaned back on her seat, mulling over his words and the implications behind it. 

As her father had reminded them before: they were royals. But as royals, they were also keepers of high tradition. There were things that they should and should not do, a standard they had to uphold, that did not necessarily apply to the other classes.

There were reasons why Dinara never entertained the possibility of them ever marrying. It's not because they were were twins or even siblings. In fact, there had been more than a few Ruling Twins and Ruling Siblings throughout history. But they were always Alpha-Omega twins, long considered to be the embodiment of perfect harmony or auspicious duality, two sides of the same coin. These weddings were always extravagantly celebrated and grandly memorialized. Above all, a period of peace and prosperity would always follow.

"It's not that I'm against the idea of it," she approached the topic cautiously.

As a whole, the empire was an advanced nation. It's population were amongst the most educated, the most liberated and progressive. Unfortunately, they were also very traditional and deeply superstitious. "But wouldn't there be rioting?"

"Because you are a Beta?"

She whipped around and saw a woman emerge from the shadows. Had she been there the whole time? In her simple winter gown, she looked like an everywoman of indeterminate age. Only the silver mantle and amulet around her neck betrayed her office.

"Mother Abbess," Dinara bowed deeply and kissed the woman's hand.

"Your father was always worrying about you," the priestess took the princess's hand into her own, turned it palm side up. Her long bony finger traced Dinara's fate line solemnly. "The hand dealt to a Royal Beta is always a cruel one."

"But nothing is ever set in stone. Everything changes, it is the way of the world. Even the strongest mountain yields to the persistence of rivers, eventually. The question is, are you willing?"

The priestess's depthless gaze sought Dinara's. Her bony fingers dug into the soft flesh of Dinara's palm. "Are you willing to enter into a union with your twin?"

"Of course," she said. She loved her twin, loved him as her own. "Of course," she said again, afraid the priestess would not believe her.

"If you are willing, then anything is possible," the woman soothed.

"But what about Samir?" Dinara exclaimed suddenly What if he..." her voice sounded so distant to her own ears. She felt faint.

"Samir? Don't worry about him," her father spoke from his place behind her, his steadying hands around her shoulders. "He will agree," he said, with the absolute conviction of a father who knew the depth of his son's heart.

~o~0~o~

Samir blinked, dumbfounded as he listened to his sister's story about what had transpired during his absence. "You're worried that I would not agree?"

"I mean..." she hesitated. "I... well... you know. We never really talked about it." She played with her food, refusing to look Samir in the eye. "I know that... um... you care for me, as I care for you..."

If Samir's jaw could drop to the floor, it would already be rolling outside. His sister could be really dense somehow.

He decided the best course was to just show her. And so he leapt out of his seat and pressed his sister into hers. He did not give her time to process his actions or find a way to push him back. He swooped down and claimed her lips with the full force of his passion.

"Care for you?" He whispered roughly against her cheek. "I _love_ you."

She blinked up at him, like a confused owl. Then realization hit. "You love me enough to..."

"Only you," he stopped her from completing the question. "It will be my honor," he said solemnly. "My greatest honor."

He claimed her lips again, this time desperately. He climbed up the chair, so his knees were either side of her, trapping her in her seat. He pushed against her shoulders and ran his hand up the column of her neck, felt her fluttery pulse against his fingers. He tilted her head by the chin, so he could push his tongue deeper into her hot sweet mouth.

~o~0~o~

"I take it that the news have been delivered?"

They groaned and separated. Their father always had the worst timing ever.

He reluctantly climbed down from her and straightened his clothes. She merely sat up in her seat and rearranged her tunic to make herself as presentable as she could be, in such circumstances.

"And it seems that the news is a good one," he smiled at them.

The emperor claimed the seat on the right side of his daughter. Samir remained standing next to her. They were holding hands, though they themselves did not seem to notice.  


	9. Chapter 9

The twins shot the breeze a little with their father, before Samir pulled them back to the matter at hand. "The Abbess said something about change?"

"Yes, unfortunately." It was their father who spoke up, "For an Alpha prince to join with his Beta twin, changes would need to be made."

"The law?" He wondered how hard a time they would have at the Senate.

"Not the law," his sister told him. " _Us_." She made a gesture to encompass all of them.

"I went to see Mother Abbess the following morning."

With her brother's hand warm against hers, his thumb tracing little circles on the inside of her wrist, she recounted her conversation with the priestess.

~o~0~o~

When she arrived at the temple, Mother Abbess was already waiting at the top of the stairs.

They made their way inside after exchanging the requisite greetings. Dinara walked respectfully half a-step behind the priestess, as they quickly moved past the familiar parts of the temple--the galleries, the general worship spaces.

"Yesterday, you said something about change," Dinara broached the subject as they walked through the shaded arcade. "What is it exactly?"

Mother Abbess merely smiled, and gestured for them to walk faster.

They cut through the gardens, not stopping to until they arrived at a clearing at the back of the main temple building. There, in the middle of a copse of old trees, stood the ruins of the original Moon Temple. Dinara had only seen the circular building once or twice, as it was no longer used for worship.

As they navigated the narrow and winding path from the new building to the old, the Abbess finally spoke. "What do you know about the First Twins?"

"As much as any other people, I suppose," Dinara answered as she pulled up the collar of her cloak when a stray wind blew past. "They were two Alpha twins. One emerged victorious and the other went on his long exile. The lesser came back after a long time, got married after a while, have children, died at a grand old age of hundred something."

"What do you know about the lesser one's descendants?"

"The Moon Goddess took pity on him and gave him a companion with whom he sired many omegas."

Mother Abbess laughed, clear and high pitched like bells. "Is that so?"

"It is not so?" Dinara asked, curiously.

"No. Oh _no_." They stopped abruptly a few paces from the temple ruins. "First of all, the lesser brother is not Alpha, but Beta. And not all of his progenies were omegas."

"Oka~y..." Dinara looked at the priestess skeptically, but there's a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

They stepped through the pillars of the tall ruins. There was nothing within, only bare marble floors decorated with alabaster mozaics. The temple's thirteen towering columns barely held up a shallow dome.

"The Moon Goddess did not  _give_ him a companion..." Mother Abbess educated, as they stood side by side in the middle of the room. The space crackled with magic. It was quiet and deathly silent inside the temple, even though the trees outside were shaking their limbs furiously. The wind picked up again, a storm was once more brewing. "They made  _him_ into an omega and gave him to his brother." 

~o~0~o~

"Oh heavens!" Samir exclaimed, clutching at his sister's hand. He was at a loss of words. So many thoughts swirled in his head like a mighty storm, as he listened to his sister spun the tale. He looked at his sister, then his father, and his sister again. She had a look of concern on her face.

The princess _was_  concerned. Her brother was hyperventilating.

"B... but... you? An omega?" He was _not_  hyperventilating. He just had a shortness of breath. And stars had suddenly appeared in his eyes.

"It makes sense," the Emperor said, rubbing the bridge of his nose. This was also his first time hearing this version of the myth.

"Even with a strong sibling bond, a beta remains a threat to any throne. There's no way he should allowed to return _and_  sire children. That's just courting trouble," he explained. "Now, an omega's natural instinct is to defer to the alpha. And when the alpha mate is of one's own bloodline, the threat disappears completely."

"Will that lower my standing in your eyes?" Dinara turned to her brother, urgent and deeply anxious. Samir never cared for omegas unless it was to bury his cock in them.

"Will it make you dislike me?" To her brother, omegas were docile creatures. Mute like Alain or deafblind like the one before the boy. She, on the other hand, was the opposite of that. Would he accept an omega that could still defeat him in a hand-to-hand battle?

"Will you withdraw your acquiescence to marry me?" She asked. A cold finger of dread iced the blood in her veins.

Samir opened and closed his mouth like a landed fish, and all the while he was shaking his head violently. "No! No! I..." He held her gaze for the longest time. "I still want to marry you."

She lifted her left hand and turned her palm up. On it, Mother Abbess had scratched out a new fate line with her sharp clawlike nails. It was suprisingly deep, but there had only been a little blood. It was a temporary mark, symbolizing the princess's own willingness to submit to the change. Her brother's willingness must be sought and received before the wound healed.

Right now, Samir observed, the line looked a bit like an old scab.

"Look," she said, as she took his hand and turned it palm side up next to hers. The same scabbed line appeared on his palm. He gasped. It was a strange kind of pain. Slowly the pain subsided into a dull throb as each of their matching scabs dissolved into a thin silvery line.

"I'm not the only one who needs to change, remember," Dinara reminded sternly. "Even though I have agreed to yield to you and to be... oh, heavens... to be bred by you," she said in a watery voice, "I am still Firstborn."

She was always proud of her primary status as Firstborn, and she had every intention to exercise every one of her rights. She'll be damned if she let someone else take it away from her.

Samir nodded faintly, taken aback by the fire in his sister's eyes. "I still want you, however way I can," he said contritely. "What is it that I have to do?" He was afraid of making mistakes as he did not want to lose her. He respected her too much. He wanted her too much. He was willing to do anything to keep her, now that she seemed so tantalizingly close to becoming his own.

"I don't know exactly," Dinara said, gazing into her brother's eyes and found him to be true. Perhaps they would be able to make it work after all. "Mother Abbess said it is something you must arrange between yourself and the Temple of the Sun Goddess, whom you must visit tomorrow bright and early."

It was clear that Samir still had many questions but a distant bell sounded. "The Moon Priestesses have arrived," Dinara announced. They had come to fetch her as promised.

The Emperor gestured at his children's hands, clasped together, "they have not come in vain, it seems."

Dinara called for her attendants to help her dress more presentably, and in no time, she was seen climbing into a prepared carriage, with her brother and father sending her off.

She twisted in her seat so she could look out of the window at her sole remaining family. She would not see them again until after the new year.

As the carriage took her away from them, the silvery line on her palm began to throb. It was almost like a sentient being, a low but insistent writhing underneath her skin. She knew Samir felt it too, the living silvery reminder of their tasks ahead. 


	10. Chapter 10

She was set upon by more priestesses as soon as she arrived. One of them pulled her forward urgently, and she had no choice but to keep up.

It was the first time Dinara had been in the residential wing of a temple. They gave her a room at the very end of the corridor, isolated from everyone. No bigger than the cells she had seen in various prisons, the room was sparsely decorated like what she imagined a temple room would be. It was also very clean, but musty. She wondered if the room had ever been used at all.

Mother Abbess was already waiting inside. She was sitting on a chair, which was the only furniture in the room other than the bed and desk.

"When was your last menses?" the priestess asked without preamble.

"I don't remember," Dinara answered without missing a beat.

"Yes, I heard from your doctor that you don't have regular menses," Mother Abbess said kindly. There were reasons why she never liked the idea of women going to war. "And you have been poisoned more than once."

Dinara nodded sadly. The hazards of the job, she thought. Who knew there were so many types of poison. The last one came on a dagger, but the worst one had been laced into her food.

"Come, we have a lot of things to do."

~o~0~o~

New Year would be in three days. The first of two full moons of the first month would rise the day after, marking the beginning of the princess's month-long ordeal. She must survive long enough to see the rising and setting of the second full moon, if she wanted to become a suitable mate for her brother.

"Did you think the Change would be something simple?" Mother Abbess admonished her. Dinara was sitting on the bed, tunic hitched up to pool around her waist, legs splayed open to Mother Abbess's efficient ministrations. "Lean back."

Flat on her back, she studied the pristine ceiling hoping to find something interesting to latch her concentration on. She felt a cold metal thing being pushed inside her, then resting snugly against her vaginal wall, keeping her open. She found an interesting thing in a juncture between the wall and the ceiling. When the thing moved, she saw it was a spider.

"You are still a virgin." Mother Abbess spoke after a while, perhaps with a little bit of awe. She, like most others, had heard about the princess's appreciation for both men and women, and that she had even lain down with some of them. To remain a virgin through it all? If not for the physical evidence presented directly in front of her, Mother Abbess would not believe it. Now she wondered how much of the rumors were true.

"Most of them are true," Dinara said as though she read the priestess's mind. "I have eyes, I can appreciate beauty where I can find it."

"That is a good way to look at life."

"I enjoy the occasional flirtation. A peck on the lips here, a touch here, a rub there," she sighed, her body heating up as she remembered the feeling of soft lips against hers, or large hands telegraphing their appreciation on her skin, or the feeling of an alpha's cock twitching hard and hot because she touched them this way or that.

She enjoyed these encounters; they quicken her blood. But she was also certain she could do without them if she had to.

"But virginity," she mused. "I figured it would be well for me to keep it. Though not because of any misplaced romanticism," the princess added quickly. She knew the value of a virgin bride in any political marriage. It seemed so trivial but it was a powerful leverage, some even said bedding a virgin princess was a powerful magic in itself. She knew there were more than a few kingdoms and tribes that would demand one.

"I understand," Mother Abbess said. She had come to appreciate the princess's clinical pragmatism in the short time she knew her. Though sometimes, Mother Abbess found the princess to be _too_ practical. Perhaps it was a Beta's folly, Mother Abbess reasoned. She looked forward to seeing the changes to the princess's personality _if_ she survived the rites.

"Is it good or bad?" Dinara asked as hands snaked under her to put a thick pillow against the small of her back, lifting her hips.

"We don't know." Mother Abbess pressed a finger on the princess's tightly furled anus, coaxing it to open up to her. "None had ever come into the rites as a virgin. You will be the first."

"How come I never knew anything about this ceremony?" Or the original myth. Or about anything really. She felt like everything she knew had been turned upside down. 

Dry hands slipped under her tunic and felt around her breasts. They were gone soon after. "Because it is dangerous."

"Because people could be coerced into it?" She imagined people being coerced to change, for one reason or another.

"Oh, it's never that," a different priestess answered from somewhere behind her. "The ceremony must be carried out by a soul fully willing, a family's blessing freely given. So, someone who has been coerced can't even begin the first step let alone complete the rites."

Dinara held her breath as her sphincter muscle was breached. "Why is it, then?" 

Another finger pushed past, joining the first one to press deeper to her rectal wall.

"These rituals used to be common knowledge among the innermost circle of the royal family. It existed among them like deceptively sweet promises, like one of those poisoned apples." Something small and cold joined the two fingers, but it was soon taken away. "Other than the First Twins, out of the five other recorded attempts, only one person survived the Change to claim her rightful place next to her alpha."

Suddenly everything disappeared, almost altogether, leaving her feeling empty.

A young-ish priestess helped her to sit up again, then left the room without a word. There remained four women in the room with her, and every one of them worked silently. Dinara wondered where the spider had gone to.

She spotted it upside down on a far ceiling. There was another spider.

Soon, a steaming goblet soon materialized on the table next to her. It smelled cloying, like an overabundance of herbs. 

"What is this?" she lifted the goblet up with one hand and pinched her nose with the other. She never liked taking medicine.

"It's to ensure you ovulate in time for the full moon rise." Mother Abbess rose to her feet and her priestess-attendants rose with her. Dinara thought she should stand up too, as a show of respect, but she was pushed back down to the bed. "No need to stand up on ceremony. Go to bed. We start early tomorrow morning."

~o~0~o~

In the morning, Dinara woke up to the quiet dawn. She could not go back to sleep so naturally she began thinking of her brother. What's he up to now? she wondered. Would he go to the Sun Temple? What kind of tasks would he have to complete?

She was so caught up in her musings that she did not hear a servant girl entering the room. 

The girl had a little basket with large ears. A bottle of medicine was taken out first, uncorked, and the contents were poured into a clean goblet. It smelled as rank as the one she had to take last night.

As the princess struggled with her medicine, the servant took the time to lay out a jug of bathing milk, a jug of rinsing water, a wash basin, soft wash cloths, and a blue woolen cassock.

She joined the priestesses at breakfast, but noted that her plate had more poached fish in it. After breakfast came another goblet with another steaming concoction. It smelled as bad as before, but tasted sweeter. It was to flush out all the poisons in her body, they told her.

Then, as the priestesses left to attend to their daytime duties, Dinara was ushered to the library where she was placed in front of a tower of books. They were accounts of all the Beta siblings who had attempted to complete the ritual.

"Read them carefully," Mother Abbess said. "Learn from their mistakes, take courage from their accomplishments."

Lunch was a simple sandwich and more steaming goblets, taken in the library. She was grateful for the break. She never expected that reading the accounts of her ancestors would move her so much. She cried into her sandwich, drank her medicine in one breath.

Hiccupping, she folded her arms on the table and laid down her head. She cried for her ancestors, the ones so overcome by love. She prayed they would give her strength to complete the labors that lay in front of her. She cried and cried until she exhausted herself.

The librarian came to fetch her as the sun was setting. Her tears dried down into messy tracks on her cheeks, and she looked a mess.

The same servant girl attended to her. Those small hands washed her with sweet-smelling water, wiped a soft cloth over her face and fingers, helped her out of her blue cassocks and into a fresh white one, which was thicker and very warm in the bracing winter night.

She took a light dinner with the priestesses, and joined them as they quietly worshipped the Moon Goddess.

Then another goblet before bed, and the whole cycle repeated again the next day. 


	11. Chapter 11

On the third day she woke up to the city's bell being rung loud and long. It was the New Year and she could hear children singing traditional new year songs on the street outside the temple.

After breakfast, rather than going to the library, she climbed the temple's tallest minaret with the other priestesses. From there, they could see the city's square in the distance, and the royal palace beyond it.

A crowd had gathered in the square, awaiting the Emperor to arrive to deliver his New Year's Message. More people were still arriving. From Dinara's vantage point, they looked like little ants swarming around a square royal purple tent set in the middle of the square.

She noted that the crowd was bigger this year, but that was perhaps because this year's message would include an announcement of succession.

Soon a huge cheer erupted, audible even from this distance. She caught a glimpse of her father's winter carriage trundling down a cleared path, but it was too far to see the occupants inside. She wondered if her brother was with her father, or if Samir was like her, stuck in a temple.

She decided she didn't want to think about it or stick around. She left went to the library instead.

~o~0~o~

Come nightfall, there was a distinct buzz going through the temple. The priestesses, usually a stoic bunch, could not contain their excitement. By moon rise tomorrow, they would witness a ritual they had never imagined they would see in their whole life.

Unlike the frenzy happening in and around the temple, Dinara's room was a place of such quietude it bordered on ennui. The Mother Abbess had declared a night of solitude and contemplation, so Dinara took her dinner alone in her room. It was a bigger meal than usual, but she finished all her food. She needed all the sustenance she could get as she was supposed to fast until after the ritual.

There was an additional goblet next to her usual ones. It was cloyingly sweet and made her drowsy.

She didn't remember when she slept, but when she opened her eyes again, it was already morning.

~o~0~o~

She rinsed her mouth and drank two mouthfuls of cool water, as was permitted.

Her servant girl did not come that morning, though there was a fresh blue cassock already waiting on the table.

She fully intended to go to the library again, but she found that her door was locked from the outside. She belatedly remembered that she wasn't supposed to leave her room on the day of the ritual.

She also found that sometime at night, someone had come in and took all her reading materials away.

With nothing to do, she sat down and watched the world go by from a little window above her bed.

~o~0~o~

She sat for hours as if in a trance, until she heard the sharp click of the door being unlocked.

Two priestesses entered with a small cup and Dinara realized she was parched. There were perhaps only two mouthful worth inside the cup, which wasn't enough to sate her thirst. But it was all she would get. Without a word they left, leaving the door open. Dinara knew it meant she was to follow them. 

Their odd and silent procession ended in another room at the other end of the corridor. It was entirely decorated with plain silver tiles polished to a high shine. She saw her reflection on each tile. There must be hundreds of her being reflected back—on the ceiling, walls, and even the floor.

They deftly relieved her of her cassock and underclothes, then bade her to lean forward, both palms flat against the cool tiles, arms straight. Now and then they ran a quieting hand up and down her quivering back as they began cleaning her anal and vaginal cavities. Every so often, they would rub against her water-filled stomach to prevent it from cramping. And if those fingers would sometimes "accidentally" brush against her nipples, or make feathery teases against her folds, no one made a comment about it.

Mother Abbess arrived just as they emptied the princess's bladder one final time, and instructed them to hurry up. They worked more quickly now, no longer stealing touches or made wistful passes. They depilated her with some cloyingly sweet-smelling cream, washed her hair and body down to the littlest toes and dried her off with gentle efficiency.

Once she was dried down, Mother Abbess approached her and told her to sit back against a ledge-like nook in one corner of the room. Already knowing what was expected of her by now, she quickly arranged herself against it. The tiles were cool against her bare back. A priestess placed a portable stand in front of her and Dinara dutifully placed her feet on each side of it.

There were no spiders in the silver room for her too divert her mind to. There were only the images of her and the priestesses being reflected again and again. She could the hundreds of reflected hands brushing against her skin, lightly kneading her breasts, opening up her labia. She could even see the Mother Abbess's finger pushing against her anal sphincter, which yielded easily thanks to the enemas she received earlier.

Every little detail was the same as the one she received when she first arrived. They touched the same spots inside and outside of her, rubbed and pressed the same way, lingered the same length of time.

Perhaps it was creams they had put on her, or perhaps because she could see exactly what was being done to her, unlike the first day, their ministration today felt different somehow. Each impersonal touch made her skin tingle, sending tiny sparks dancing on her nerve endings.

When the fingers withdrew, she felt emptier than before. She mustered every self-control she had learned to stop her hips from canting up, to stop a moan from escaping her lips.

She caught Mother Abbess looking at her with knowing eyes. But if the priestess knew what Dinara was thinking, the old woman wisely held back her words.

"You are ready," Mother Abbess merely declared, helping Dinara down from her seat and back onto her feet. 


	12. Chapter 12

They dressed the princess in the same clothes as those worn the other priestesses, then added a mantilla on her head.

Rather than lace, it was made from finely woven white daturas, the sacred moonflower. The mesh of dozens of five pointed flowers was arranged to fall over her brows and down the back of her night-dark hair. With every movement, the flowers released their heady fragrance, and they quickly filled her senses.

They moved as one long line of women clad in white, as white as the snow and the moon that illuminated their torchless procession. The Mother Abbess walked at the head of the line, while Dinara walked at the very back.

At the top of the old Temple's stone steps. Dinara was guided to stand on a small square marble, barely outside an arch created by two columns. If she took five steps forward, she would come under the inner edge of the temple's dome. From where she stood, Dinara could see there were already people standing within. They were dark shadows moving among white marble columns.

"Wait here," Mother Abbess ordered as she left the group.

The wind soon picked up and what remained of the winter clouds cleared away. While the other priestesses withdrew to where the wind could not reach, huddling together for warmth, Dinara was left to stand on her spot.The chill could be felt even through her thick cloak and assock, raising fine goosebumps on her skin. Dinara lifted her head to the sky, clear and cloudless.

~o~0~o~

Eleven heads turned to see Mother Abbess step inside the temple. They all wore garbs of high priestly offices, leading a causal onlooker to believe that they were the Mother Abbesses and Father Abbots of their respective temples. One look at their eyes though, each as brightly unfathomable and as depthless as the next, showed that each of these earthly vessels had become the avatars of some greater being.

It had been a long time since all of them gathered in one place like this, and only their ancient years stopped them from appearing  _too_ excited.

"Priestess to my Sister," the Sun Goddess warmly greeted.

"My Lady," Mother Abbess demurely averted her eyes from staring directly at the deity, she prostrated herself and kissed the hems of the goddess's robes. Then she greeted each of the other Deities in the same way.

"Is that the Petitioner you are championing?" the God of War asked, pointing his finger.

Under the arch of two columns, they saw a woman dressed in a typical cassock of Moon acolytes. Only the flowers in her hair set her apart from the others.

"Indeed My Lord."

"I know her," he mused. "She has made many sacrifices on my altar."

"Indeed I know her also," the Sea God interjected. "She has blessed my waters with good fighting and goodly amount of offerings."

"Yes, I like her too, Brothers," the Goddess of Bountiful Harvest spoke. "Even when  _your_ stupid pursuit took many men away from me," she glared specifically at the God of War, who appeared contrite under the gaze of his Elder Sister, "she has never failed to send many men to me, to till my fields, to care for my bees... I like her."

One by one the Deities turned to praise the Petitioner, some more gleaming than others. For a while, it seemed that most of the Deities looked upon the princess favorably.

Until one voice rose above the others.

"You all may think is all well and good, Brothers and Sisters!" They all turned around to face the usually quiet Goddess of the Hearth. "But it is  _my_  Blessing that she seeks above all."

"Indeed, My Lady," the Abbess of the Moon placated. "You are the Protrectress of Omegas. It is your fold she Petitions to join, it is your within arms she wishes to be."

"Fine words," the goddess spat. "But otherwise, empty."

The other deities stepped aside to give space to their usually-gentle sister, who had drawn herself up. It was always the quiet ones, they whispered among themselves.

"What does she know about being an omega! What does she know about childbirth? About child rearing?"

"What does she know about the rites of the hearth? I dare say,  _nothing_! She has gone all her life oblivious to  _my_ existence, happily engaging in  _your_  pursuits." She glared at the War God. "If not for the royal succession, I dare say, she would gladly turn her back on  _me_!"

Her anger turned her face black as the bottom of the soup pot that many wives would keep above the hearth fire. "You, Abbess!" She turned toward the mortal who refused to be cowed. "You have been with her and probed her heart. You know she would have happily gone unwed! Tell me, why should I not just extinguish her life and settle the matter of succession once and for all."

It was a rhetorical question, of course. Only the Chief of Heavens, the Life Giver, could take away the life bestowed. And the Life Giver was never present at gatherings such as these.

"Indeed, My Lady, you speak the truth." The Abbess nodded sadly. "She is uneducated to the customs of the hearth."

The princess wouldn't know the first thing about managing a household. And despite her exceptional embroidery skill, she was decidedly uninterested in any sort of domestic pursuit or any ladlylike virtues. Mother Abbess cringed when she remembered how the princess ate like a stereotypical male alpha. Furthermore, "She has seen twenty one winters but she is still chaste."

"An uneducated virgin!" the goddess exclaimed and laughed. It was hollow and chilling one. "How interesting." There was suddenly a gleam in her eyes. Truly this was unexpected. "How interesting is this. Someone  _blind_  to the heights of my ecstasy and the depths of my agony." She tapped a long finger on her chin. "How  _fascinating_." 


	13. Chapter 13

Time seemed to have no meaning as they waited. Dinara didn't know how much time had passed by the time she was finally fetched. The moon looked bigger now, hung fat and low near the horizon.

"Come, Child."

There was an odd timbre in the priestess's voice and an odd glint in her eyes. Dinara looked closer and gasped. Mother Abbess's eyes were now the color of molten silver, the lines on her face had disappeared completely. She was quietly radiant.

It only meant one thing.

"Goddess!" Dinara gasped. She knelt down and kissed the hems of the deity's robe.

The moon deity herself helped her supplicant to rise to her shaky feet and brushed a stray hair that had escaped the flower veil. "Hello, my dear," the goddess said soothingly.

With her body possessed by the goddess, Mother Abbess's hands felt cold against a mortal's skin. She ran a frost-frigid finger across Dinara's forehead, down her nose, her mouth, her chin, the column of her neck, then to the clasp of cloak. With a flick, the heavy gold and silver clasp flicked open and the princess's heavy cloak to the ground.

She pressed her cold finger on the dip between Dinara's clavicle just visible above her cassock's collar. "Present yourself, Petitioner. Your trial has begun."

Bracing herself for the cold, Dinara nodded stiffly. With trembling fingers, she quickly undid the small finicky ties that held her cassock closed. Chill seemed to seize her bared skin quickly, but before she could shiver or freeze, the wind died down and the cold went with it. She felt herself warm up from underneath her skin.

The goddess smiled as Dinara stood in front of her, clad in nothing but her flower veil.  She looked a bit cold, and yet still so inviting. The goddess couldn't help but steal a kiss from those soft lips, biting lightly, teasing as though seeking entrance but not quite. "Beautiful." the goddess rubbed her thumb over Dinara's moist and plump bottom lip. Color bloomed on the petitioner's pale cheeks. "You have nothing to worry about."

Taking her charge by the hand, the goddess avatar led the petitioner into the temple's inner sanctum.

~o~0~o~

The distance from the entrance arch to the middle of the room was not vast, but time stretched like molasses and her walk was slow. Dinara saw eleven shadows, each standing in front of a pillar, shrouded in silence and shadow. 

She tried to remember the details that she had read in the accounts written by her forebears, but her mind was clouded. She wondered who they were.

The interior of the temple was bright. It grew even brighter with every step she took, until the light became too much for her to bear and she instinctively closed her eyes.

A voice in her ears told her to open her eyes. When she did, she found her world had gone silver. Her vision had been taken away, replaced not by the darkness of a common blind. It was as though she was looking from behind a thick veil.

~o~0~o~

The Deities watched as the princess stepped onto the flat circle in the middle of the temple. They watched her struggle not to panic when her world became of one color.

The God of War whistled lowly. She was even more beautiful than the last time he saw her. He still remembered that day, when he looked from within the offering fire--she had stood with her blood-spattered cheeks, her straight unbowed spine, eyes bright with residual war-ecstasy. The princess's army had recaptured a key city by the coast so they had slaughtered a hundred rams as thanksgiving. One look at his brother, he knew that the Sea God was thinking the same as him.

The Goddess of the Hearth was of course the least appreciative of all the deities. Her scowl had deepened the moment the Beta stepped into the temple sanctum. 'Look at how she walks!' she said to herself. 'Strutting like the alpha that she's  _not_!'

"Look at all the scars on her body!" the goddess exclaimed loudly, pointing accusing fingers at a contrite War God. Indeed it was a shame to ruin such body with such an ugly array of raised scars, however honorable they were received.

"At least she's not terribly muscled," the Goddess of Mercy tried vainly to counter her angry sister's negative words.

The Hearth Goddess refused to be pacified. She rushed forward to where the Petitioner stood, and roughly seized Dinara's bare breasts. "These!" she gave the two modest swells a vicious squeeze and the Petitioner let out a small gasp. " _These_ are entirely too small. How is she supposed to sustain life with these pitiful things!" She knew about these types of women, these self-proclaimed warriors and their horrible habit of binding their breasts. How dare they! She thought.

"These!" she clawed at Dinara's hips. " _These_ are entirely too narrow! No life can possibly grow here!" The goddess did not think one baby could survive, let alone the multiple pups an omega was expected to carry.  

"And this!" the goddess struck Dinara's pubic mound with an open palm. The strike was loud like a crack of thunder and stung all too sharply. Dinara had to bite her lips to stop herself from groaning in pain (or from actually defending herself in the first place, as she'd been trained to do).

"So very _ignorant_  to the ways of an omega. How can such an _frigid_ being possibly survive a Heat when it comes!" She turned around to face her Sacred Brethren. "I cannot possibly agree to let her even _begin_ on the path of Change. She will not survive it!"

The Divine Rule was non-negotiable. Once the Hearth Goddess gave her blessings, the Petitioner must experience her first True Heat as an omega by the rise of the second full moon before the first month's end.

This meant, the Petitioner had a little over three weeks to complete the Change. Not only must her body become suitable for childbearing according to the goddess's almost impossible standards, she must also be taught the ways of the omega, possibly undoing everything she had learned her whole life.

No matter how one looked at it, there was just too much to do in so little space of time. The goddess was convinced that the petitioner would not survive the whole ordeal.

Even though she was angry, The Hearth Goddess did not think she was herself unnecessarily cruel. She would not deliberately set someone up on the path of failure. "No, I will not agree," she decided.

"Take her away," She turned her head, unable to hide a look of disgust. She never had any high regard for betas in general, but this one was by far the worst she had seen so far in her infinite life.


	14. Chapter 14

Dinara's heart sunk when she heard the deity's ominous order. Having been a precocious child then woman, her first instinct was to protest loudly. But she had been reminded to keep silent.

 _These gods and their fragile ego_ , Dinara fumed inwardly, trying to keep a straight face, half hoping they were not all mind readers. She wanted to get out of this alive, not as ashes in the wind.

So she could only stand quietly and blindly, valiantly holding her tongue. It was up to the moon goddess, her champion and sponsor, to plead her case.

There seemed to be some heated argument taking place, but she could not understand a word being said. There was a rising buzz that slowly obscured their conversation, isolating her in her own mind. Her thoughts ran in circles to parse what the Hearth Goddess's harsh words and actions.

She didn't have a word of defense against chest-binding, what the goddess said was true. Her old governess had warned her about this practice, but it was necessary in the field.

But she can't help her narrow hips, Dinara had wanted to exclaim, she was born with it! (but she knew that smartmouthing a goddess in a snit might not be a good idea).

She knew some betas were born with wide childbearing hips, but she also knew some people whose hips were narrower than hers but still had no problem birthing a child. So, she's quite confused at the goddess's irritation regarding this part of her anatomy

Now, about the Heat.... Well, the goddess was right about her not having the faintest idea about it and all its implications. She had heard many tales from the omegas she knew, but by far the closest thing to high ecstasy for her was the thrill of a chase, the thrum of victory, the delirium of winning closely-fought battles. She doubted any of those things resembled the heights, or indeed the lows, of an Omega's heat.

~o~0~o~

"All of you seem so sure about her abilities..." She looked each of her brothers and sisters in their eyes. "If she fails,  _you all_  will have ruined her," she decreed. They had, together, tried to convince her to bestow a chance, a small chance, to the Petitioner.

"It will all be on your heads," she reiterated, for she refused to be blamed for it. 

"She will not fail," the Moon Goddess spoke up for her charge. 

"History said differently," the Hearth Goddess reminded. She remembered every one of those petitioners, those who succeeded, but especially the ones who failed. She might not show it, but those losses weighed heavy in her heart. Each loss hardened her heart just a little.

She turned to study the latest one, still standing rooted on the spot where they had left her. The other petitioners had been more knowledgeable than she, had been better prepared than she, had been better endowed than she, and yet they still failed. What hope then, did this one petitioner, sorely lacking in every way, had? She did not wish to witness another failed attempt.

"Please Sister," the Goddess of Mercy pleaded, her warm brown eyes shining with unshed tears. Crocodile tears, mostly, but she's a good actress if she wanted to. The Hearth Goddess sighed—her sister was never above emotional blackmail. Out of all her Brethren, she loved the Goddess of Mercy the most, even more than she loved the Fire God, her own twin.

~o~0~o~

Suddenly the buzzing stopped and the world came into focus again in Dinara's mind. 

"I don't know if you are cursed or blessed to have so many champions," the Hearth Goddess mocked the Petitioner and her brethren altogether. "We shall see if you can pass my test tonight."

The Harvest Goddess merely rolled her eyes and shook her wheatcolored head sadly. Sister Hearth's tests had become progressively harder as the centuries passed by. She wondered where this sadistic streak came from. She shared the same concerned look with her Sister Moon.

The goddess in question walked in a circuit around the Petitioner like a predator measuring a prey. The petitioner remained standing and looking blindly forward.

Approaching the petitioner from behind, she pressed her lace-covered breasts against sleek bare back. She snaked her arms to the petitioner's front and idly traced a line from sternum to navel and back up again. Dinara gasped as little sparks jumped off her skin along the path of the goddess's fingers.

The goddess tilted Dinara's head sideways, baring the side neck and pressed a punishing kiss on it. She plucked one datura from Dinara's flower veil and coaxed it between Dinara's dry lips. "Chew," she whispered, nipping at an earlobe. After a while, "swallow."

Dinara dutifully ate three more flowers. She could feel warmth bubbling and pooling at the bottom of her belly. Her muscles tightened and her breath quickened. "My Sister Moon assured me you are ovulating." She placed her palm splayed above the Petitioner's womb. But a beta's ovulation was merely a distant and imperfect shadow. "Have just a  _little_  taste of what a Heat is truly like." She drew out her words as she pressed down sharply. Dinara's body jerked backward into a tight bow as a surge of desire coursed through her. 

"Moonset is not for another eight hours, my dear," the goddess made lazy circles on heated skin. Let's see if she could last that long, for a start. 

"Unfortunately," the goddess said, letting her palm travel lower down over Petitioner's pubic mound, then skimming over her clit. "Since you are chaste, and must remain so until your first True Heat, when your mated Alpha will give you your first knot," she paused dramatically with her fingers hovering above the princess's warm folds, " _if and when_  you've earned the privilege to, of course..."

With her fore- and ring fingers, the goddess spread Dinara's womanhood open. "None of us can help you here."

She smirked when her Brethren groaned in collective disappointment.

"That's right," the goddess spoke more to her brethren than her quarry. "None of your cocks will get anywhere near her, let alone knot her." Oh imagine that, the goddess thought idly. A heat with nary a touch and no hope of a knot... the poor girl. She almost smirked, but reminded herself that she's a goddess and must keep up appearances. 

"Not here." She ran her middle finger teasingly against the growing moistness she found there.  She knew that her brother, the war god, had been fantasizing about taking the princess's virginity ever since the princess stepped inside the temple. The silly man. It had always belonged to the princess's mate, as was fated since the very beginning.

"Not here." She pressed against the Petitioner's anus. This too, belonged to the princess's mate. "A pity too, since Sister Moon's people cleaned it out so nicely." 

"And definitely not here." She traced her finger way back up, leaving a glistening trail of juices along the Petitioner's front up to her slightly parted mouth. "What a waste of such a pretty mouth," she teased her siblings.

She knew that the triplet gods of Sky, Sea, and Earth had been looking forward to taking her together at the same time. She shook her head, truly her Brethren could be so fickle, even when the stakes were greater than mere physical gratification.

Sticky fingers pressed against the petitioner's dry lips. "Remember, not a word."

~o~0~o~

The petitioner was dropped unceremoniously onto the floor. Cool tiles were momentarily a blessing against her overheated skin. But it soon turned into agony as the persistent cold warred with the heat rising within her.

"Do as I say." The goddess's demand was loud in her mind. 

She writhed on the floor as a coil of molten steel seemed to form inside her womb, coiling tighter and tighter until it burst up into thousands of tiny fiery shards traveling through her veins.

"Enjoy your little heat, Beta..."


	15. Chapter 15

The Deities watched with detached awe as the writhing body in front of them became rigid with tension then climaxed untouched with an open-mouthed yet silent scream. On her face, beneath evidence of her passion, surprise was palpable.

It was the sort of surprise that came with the kind of primordial knowing.

The question was written as clear as day on her face: how have I not known this before?

It was a familiar look they had seen on many faces, acolytes and petitioners alike. Usually accompanied by unexplainable terror, as if such pleasure made them afraid of their own mortality.

They were not expecting to see her surprise turned into a small satisfied smile. As though she had discovered some ancient knowledge and found it worthwhile.

"There is pleasure in knowledge," the goddess of Wisdom nodded approvingly. "Perhaps she is not so frigid as you think, Sister."

The Hearth Goddess merely scowled. "We shall see," she said through gritted teeth. "There are still many hours left to this trial."

~o~0~o~

It was like nothing she had ever experienced before. The bone deep sensation of pleasure that buoyed her up and pushed her down simultaneously. Blood rushed up, like waves breaking against mighty cliffs in an endless loop. What she felt was unlike the gentle ebb and flow inspired by the clever fingers of the capital's finest courtesans. It was nothing like the thrill that came with every scrape of her soldiers' touches, tongues, and teeth.

She rode the sensation gladly and concentrated on the great joy she found in this new knowledge.

It pleased her at first, and the feeling gladdened her heart.

But it came relentlessly like the endless seas.

~o~0~o~

They heard it before they saw it, the moment when mere knowing was no longer enough. 

She let out a whimper of frustration, chasing phantom pleasures.

Despite herself and before anyone could stop her, Wisdom stepped forward. She knelt between the petitioner's splayed legs, and teased the princess's clit. It throbbed insistently against her finger, like a needy thing.

"I know we are not to breach her, Sister," the goddess said from where she knelt, when she felt a glare of warning hot on her back. "But even on the surface, there's much she could learn about herself."

Under the goddess's guiding hand, Dinara was discovering erogenous zones that she never knew existed before. Under her armpit, just to the left of her right nipple, her side just below the lowest rib, the soft flesh on the underside of her knee. She touched herself sometimes insistently, other times gently. This time with force and pressure, another times like a whispered longing.

There's a particular little spot on just outside of her labia, plump and moist, which sent little sparks when touched. The goddess flicked on it almost disinterestedly, sending the princess bucking against her touch every time she did so. She blew on it gently, in between taking deep breaths of the princess's wondrous scent.

She smiled as Dinara rediscovered the pleasure of knowledge to another toe-curling fulfillment.

~o~0~o~

Time passed, but she had no concept of it. Perhaps it had been an age, perhaps it was the span of a mere breath.

All her muscles were screaming, trembling, heaving. Every inch of her skin a map of desire that rippled and shivered when touched. She was both terribly aware of herself and helplessly not in control of any part of her.

No matter how many times she had climaxed, no matter how high she scaled the peaks of her passion, there was always something missing. Like a void taking hold refusing to recede. If anything, it grew and grew. Darker, deeper. It was as if a beast had taken residence in her soul, demanding to be fed, demanding to be sated, threatening to swallow her whole if she didn't.

Desperation welled inside her, frustration bloomed at the pit of her stomach.

What was it that could stop this hunger? Who was it that could sate her greedy heart? She wanted to cry tears of frustration but none came. Her world pushed deep inside and contracted, she wished and she pleaded in her heart, yet, she was alone in her desert.

~o~0~o~

Dinara wasn't even touching herself when she climaxed again, but it was clearly an uneasy one. It was a meager offering to the ravenous beast that resided within her.

The moon had departed its zenith, now a silver disc returning back into the bowels of the earth. It bathed her sweat-soaked skin in an eerie silver glow.

The deities watched as she turned into molten silver, warmed up to a frenzy, her breasts heaving with every frustrated breath.

She could no longer touch herself, her arms lying straight beside her flanks, fingers curling and uncurling as if to dig burrows into the unyielding marble floor. Her weight was borne up by her shoulders as she arched up on the floor. Her legs were pulled back, splayed wide and quivering, until the backs of her thighs and calves were almost touching and she was on tiptoes. Her thighs fell further apart, her hips rose and rose up into the air, a desperate invitation that none in the room could accept.

And yet was such a pleasing sight that the Forest God quickly summoned roots and vines from the trees outside to wrap around her limbs, holding her in pose and place. They bore her weight so she became weightlessly suspended. The Sky God, not to be outdone, sent a light gust of wind to caress the princess's heaving bosom, watched those little nipples pebbling up once again, goosebumps forming on her winter-tan skin. Gentle breeze traced down her curved spine, over the swell of her buttocks, and across the winking hole of her anus. It cooled  her heated stomach, teased down her smooth shaven mound, and kissed her dripping folds.

A deidamia butterfly alighted on her clit. Its wings fluttered like the lightest of whispers, but its spindly legs were like pinpricks of miniature lightning. The princess smiled tiredly and her frown smoothed itself out a little. The Harvest Goddess smiled in kind.

Sweat on the princess's skin, the nectar leaking out of her cunny, attracted more butterflies—brilliant blues and yellows, emerald greens and clearwings.

~o~0~o~

She was tired, delirious and thought she would die. Desire had turned passion against her and the emptiness in her core was a painful cry in her heart. Could an omega survive without a mate, she wondered, as she chased slivers of pleasure to feed the beast that sat like a tyrant in her belly.

Each time, it was more meager than the last. 

But each time she ran out of hope, a new spark came, and in some corner of her exhausted mind she trusted the deities to guide her to new avenues, deeper fonts of knowledge—about herself, about her pleasures, about what pleased the others—then uncharted territories.

Perhaps if she survived this, she would be able to put everything she learned to good use.

If...


	16. Chapter 16

Samir fidgeted inside the carriage, ignoring his father's stern look of rebuke. 

Dawn unfolded only slowly outside of their small space, the world was still asleep. Apart from the steady gallop of their horses, silence stretched long and uncomfortable, punctuated by the occasional whinny or the crack of an encouraging whip.

A Moon priestess, who had come to lead him to where his sister was, sat up front, next to the carriage driver. She barely spoke a dozen words to him since they met at the foot of the Sun temple, and the air of mystery made Samir's mind run in circles.

~o~0~o~

The Moon temple was at the other side of the city from the Sun temple, but their horses were swift and true, and yet the trip felt unbearably long for him.

Soon, though, they arrived. By his estimation, it was less than an hour before sunrise. 

He kept his head down, eyes trained only on the even marble floors underneath his feet, though not by choice. It was something he needed to do to keep his sanity. Around him, up the path toward the Old Temple, he could hear an outpouring of desire, every whisper and every sigh, every desperate entreaty, the meeting of flesh upon flesh. He could smell them almost taste them, each sweeter than the last, equally lustful. 

He concentrated instead on putting one feet in front of the other. The scar on his palm throbbed more insistently as he got closer to the Old Temple and he wondered if he was imagining it. He wondered if Dinara felt the same tug as he did.He was told to wait at the bottom a flight of stone steps. He kept his head down, resolutely hanging onto the feeling that now radiated out of his hand to the rest of him. He needed every self-control he had because his senses were screaming.

Someone behind him yelled their completion. Another followed, this one somewhere to the left of him, begging to be bred. The air was heavy with desire, as though a thick soup or quicksand of lust. It almost bowled him over.  He wished he could close his ears to the sounds as he could close his eyes to the sight. The dull throb of his scar had become full blown pain that he dug his fingers into his palms. 

He felt his father's steadying hand on his shoulder, like a familiar anchor. He heard his father's heavy breathing, the hand on his shoulder tightened every now and then. 

After what seemed to be an eternity, they were finally invited to enter.

Samir didn't know what he expected to see when he was finally allowed to step into the Old Temple, but what he saw was nothing like he had ever imagined before. 

~o~0~o~

There were twelve people, sitting around a fire lit in the middle of the temple. The men and women were dressed grandly, and he recognized the emblem of each of the empire's major temples. 

Over the fire, hung down from a large iron tripod, was a large kettle of sweet porridge. Each one had a bowl of the same soup and a large ladle for a spoon. They dipped winter berries in their broth and chatted as they ate. The scene was entirely domestic, as domestic as a predawn breakfast of gods could be. 

Though they might seem engrossed in their chatter to notice anything else, Samir knew he was being closely scrutinized. They spoke in some kind of foreign tongue, and he could not make heads nor tails of their conversation. 

With the gods, everything was always a test. Samir thought that he was growing quite fed up with those. But they had his sister and he didn't know what state she was in. That was enough for him to be on his best behavior. Any other time, he would've bowled them over with questions and demands, gods or not. 

His father had once told him that he was too hot-tempered, too much of everything all at once. One day, it would be his downfall, but also countless others too. 

It was what got him sent to the Sun Temple. Like the sun, he needed to know the extent of his might, lest he burned everything and everyone he touched. He winced at the memory. He wondered if his sister's trials was anything as gruelling his. 

And so he waited, fidgeting and impatient. His stomach growled every so often when ever the breeze took the scent of breakfast porridge to his nostrils. 


End file.
